Page 6

six

A nthony walked up the stairs towards his room, bothered by something else Grandmama had said. Patrick liked all the girls, and they liked him.

But he liked many girls at the same time, and he didn’t care whether they were married, engaged, widowed, or débutantes searching for a husband. The only honourable thing about his dissolute behaviour was that he always informed his paramours of his intentions, which meant no marriage and no romantic entanglements.

At least the ladies knew what to expect.

Isabella would be disappointed if she believed Patrick had serious intentions. But Anthony might be mistaken. Perhaps Patrick meant to court her properly. He hoped not.

“Anthony,” a voice whispered from a dark corner of the corridor.

“Isabella?”

“Lower your voice. Come here. Quick.” She gave him orders now.

He shouldn’t find that so enticing.

She waved at him from a nook in the wall, half hidden by the darkness.

“You’re lost,” he said.

“No, thank you. I could walk through this castle with a blindfold at night and find my bedroom without a moment of hesitation.”

He laughed; it was becoming a habit when she was around. “I would love to see that. I don’t know all the crannies and passages of the castle myself. What do you need?”

She became serious. “I just wanted to apologise.”

“I don’t remember you offending me.”

She worried at her lower lip. “My behaviour isn’t a reflection of my family. Do you know what I mean?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Helen would never embarrass you in front of other people.” Her tone changed into a low, grave one. “She’s well-mannered and sensible. She would never laugh too loudly or cover her face with cream.”

“You don’t embarrass anyone, Isabella, much less me. Don’t be ashamed of who you are.”

“I’m not ashamed. But I’m not like Helen, and if it were just me, I wouldn’t care, but I don’t want to hurt her or my family. I don’t want to be the cause of Helen’s unhappiness.”

He put a hand on his chest. “I promise you whatever you do, I won’t be embarrassed and my opinion of Helen won’t change.”

Her shoulders sagged. “Thank you. I can sleep now. I was so anxious.”

“If anything, I should apologise for having asked you about the ghost. I meant it as a jest, but Grandmama took the opportunity to scold you.”

She lifted a shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. It’s Helen I’m worried about.”

“Nothing has been decided yet.” He wanted her to know that.

At least officially nothing had been decided yet.

“That’s why I’m worried. I don’t want you to reject her because you would be ashamed of having me as your sister.”

On impulse, he held her hand. “I would never be ashamed of you.”

Her lips parted as she looked at his hand over hers. He released her, not without noticing how soft and silky her skin was.

“You should return to your bedroom,” he said in a more severe tone than he meant.

“I should. Thank you for talking to me.”

He inclined his head. “Good night then.”

“Good night.” She didn’t leave the nook but gazed around.

He took a few steps. “Good night.”

She showed a forced smile. “Nighty-night.” She didn’t move.

“You are indeed lost.”

“Botheration!” She shot her gaze skywards. “I asked Patrick where your room was. Don’t worry. He didn’t believe we were having an assignation. I was very subtle with my inquiry.”

Somehow, he doubted that.

“Finding your room was easy, but all these corridors look the same! I don’t know where to go from here. I got distracted looking at a suit of armour, and now I don’t remember if my room is on the left or the right.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “So you won’t find your room blindfolded at night.”

“I often exaggerate for a dramatic effect.”

He laughed and offered her his arm. “Let me escort you.”

“What if someone sees us?”

“No one will. I can move through the castle unseen when I want.”

A little thrill went through him when she took his arm.

He entered one of the many libraries of the castle. This one had five floor-to-ceiling windows that let the moonlight in. The view of the gentle hills covered in silver light gave him peace as Isabella did.

“Beautiful.” She gazed around.

“Father was a collector of rare books. And he loved libraries.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“But don’t be too impressed. Half of these books are treatises on economy and politics.”

“Not surprising. You must spend a lot of time in the House of Lords.”

He sighed. “I do. The House of Lords is not different from a battlefield. And we’re on the brink of causing a riot. New factories are sprouting throughout the country, and we don’t have the laws to regulate their extremely fast growth. Employees are working endless hours for small wages, exploited by the owners, and some managers dare to hire children…” He glanced at her. “Apologies. That must bore you.”

“Not at all. And I agree about the riots. Unless the government intervenes, angry mobs will flood our streets. Starving people don’t have anything to lose. We should protect our workers, give them higher wages, and above all, send children to school.”

“Thank you for your assessment.” He meant it.

“Being informed of what’s happening in our country is a right and a duty.”

“I agree.”

“Do you really support women’s right of suffrage?”

“Absolutely. Although I’m worried about whom Grandmama would choose to vote for if she could.”

She burst out laughing before clamping a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. That was awful of me.”

He laughed too. “No, it wasn’t.”

He opened a narrow door at the end of the room. The passage was so tight their shoulders and arms touched.

“I love these hidden corridors and passages.” She leant on him, seemingly uncaring about their closeness.

“It would take a week to explore them all.” He opened another door to enter a lateral hallway. “Patrick and I spent the summers exploring the castle. We drew a map with all its secrets.”

“I need it, so I won’t—” She skidded to a stop in front of a flight of stairs leading up. “Look at that. Isn’t that perfect?”

“The stairs? I believe there are plenty.”

“Yes, but these are special. The bannister is large, flat, and straight.” She released his arm and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I really have to do it.”

“What?” He knit his eyebrows. “You have the same expression as this morning before screaming bloody murder, and I’m worried.”

“You meant it when you said you wouldn’t be embarrassed by me, didn’t you?”

He was lost. “Yes, I did.”

“Then allow me to do this. Please.”

“By all means. But what is this ? Another scream? Please no. My eardrums have barely recovered.”

“No, no, no. No screaming. I’ll be quiet.”

“I’m curious. A little worried but curious.”

She darted up the stairs. Her skirt fluttered up, exposing her slender ankles and calves, and he shouldn’t look, but he did.

She stopped at the top of the stairs and faced him.

“Isabella?”

There was a swish of fabric. Then she mounted the bannister backwards and rushed down. A whoop of delight echoed off the walls as she flew down like a bullet. She was going to hurt herself if she didn’t slow down. The bloody floor was hard stone. No carpet. She might break a bone.

“Isabella—” He barely had time to shoot forwards before grabbing her.

Grabbing was the wrong term. She smashed her rear against his chest, and caught by the momentum, he fell over backwards with her in his arms. As her chignon came undone, her hair ended up in his mouth while her skirt and petticoats twisted themselves around him like the tentacles of an octopus.

“What the hell!” He tried to free himself from the entanglement of her hair and gown.

She trembled in his arms.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No, no.” She laughed. “It was fantastic.”

She shifted and writhed to stand up. Her elbows sank into his stomach, and her knee hit his groin.

“Ouch!” He groaned.

“Sorry. The floor is slippery.” She scrambled up to her feet, towering over him still on the floor on his back.

Her hair was flowing down past her waist, and with her gown in disarray, she looked like a warrior goddess.

“I’m so sorry.” She helped him up, grabbing his arm.

He winced.

“Where did I hit you?” She brushed his jacket.

“Let’s put it this way.” He ignored his throbbing crotch. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to produce an heir.”

“I think you have a flair for the dramatic, too.”

“I’m astonished that you’re making fun of my pain.” He feigned being offended.

“I truly am sorry, Your Grace. But the straight flight of stairs was too much of a temptation.”

“At least one of us had fun.” He took deep breaths, his groin on fire. “I’m curious. What would you have done if I’d died?”

She burst out laughing his favourite laugh. “Hide your body under one of the tapestries and just leave you there. I reckon no one would have found you for a long time. And the castle is haunted, apparently.”

“Lady Isabella, you’re wicked.”

She curtsied. “Thank you.” She took his arm again. “Are you sore?”

“I’ll live.” Physically, yes. But emotionally…he hadn’t experienced anything so powerful and deep in a long time. And it was great.

Isabella shook his senses awake. He finally felt something that wasn’t apathy, pain, or disappointment. Her arm on his was a sweet weight he easily became used to.

“Has your opinion of me changed?” she asked.

“Of course it has.” He rubbed his sore shoulder because he’d hit the floor with it as well. “It’s the first time a lady has barrelled into me, wrestled me to the floor, and threatened to end my lineage.”

She laughed again but muffled the sound by hiding her face in his chest. The riot of emotions bursting through him was like a fresh summer rain after weeks of stifling heat.

Only more devastating.

Another lady would have cowered in front of him. But then again, another lady wouldn’t have rushed down the bannister of a flight of stairs at night and hit him.

“I can’t apologise enough. I miscalculated my speed and the steepness of the stairs.”

“Thank you,” he said.

She gazed up at him in surprise. “For having hurt you?”

“For the laughter. It’s something more precious than people think.”

“You must lead a hard, serious life if you don’t laugh often.”

“I can’t complain. I have everything I need.”

“Obviously, you don’t if you’re unhappy.”

“Good point.”

“May I ask you something personal?”

“After you tried to kill me? Of course.”

“Your cheeks are a bit hollow. You don’t seem to enjoy yourself at all, and you don’t laugh often.” She tilted her head, and a dark curl, a survivor of the chignon disaster, gave up and tumbled down her shoulder. “Is it because of the military academy? I heard you went to war.”

“I did, but I didn’t.”

“Is it a riddle?”

“I was deployed, sailed on a ship, and arrived on the battlefield, but I never engaged in combat. My fellow soldiers and I were deployed to multiple locations without discharging a firearm. For one reason or another—incorrect intelligence, tardiness, or just chance—we never met the enemy. The fear and anxiety of being about to die had been there, but then nothing happened. I returned home without having been in battle.”

“But something troubles you.”

“It does.” He clenched his teeth. “We saw plenty of battlefields after the battle was over. I’ll spare you the details, but the carnage remained impressed in my memories. And then my parents died. My Father never had the chance to be the duke. My grandfather died after him, and then I inherited the title. I feel guilty as if I robbed my father of his rights. And I wasn’t ready to be the duke. I’m not ready now. I don’t want to be the duke.”

“I understand now. Only laughter will keep the darkness away.” She touched his hand briefly, and once again, her compassion and spontaneity surprised him.

A knot of emotion lodged in his throat. “You give me hope.”

If it was something inappropriate to say because he’d known her for too short a time to say it, he didn’t give a damn.

“I wish you didn’t feel so alone because you aren’t. Your brother and grandmother care about you and need you.” She touched his hand again.

He didn’t know what to say, but she didn’t prompt him for an answer, which he appreciated because the turmoil within him didn’t make sense.

They resumed walking down the corridor lit only by the moonlight, but with her at his side, it was like walking in the sunshine. No one had ever subverted his mood so quickly and deeply as Isabella. She was like a storm that had come without warning, only to sweep him off his feet and shake the very core of his being. She made his physician look like an amateur.

He slowed down once at the end of the corridor. “That door over there opens to your room.”

She put a hand on the narrow door. “Are you sure? My door is a lot wider.”

He pushed the door open. “This is a secondary door concealed under the wallpaper.”

She entered her bedroom and examined the door. “Crikey.”

He was careful to remain out of her bedroom. He had already gone too far with her. Not that he regretted the time they’d spent together, but he didn’t want to worry her.

“Well, good night, Anthony.” She was about to shut the door.

“Wait. May I ask you something?” Again, he’d acted on impulse.

“Of course.”

He hesitated, worried she might say no. “Would you come with me to Maiden Hill?”

She squeezed his hand. “Of course.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning then, on the top of the hill.”

She nodded. “I had a lovely time, and thank you for your kindness, Anthony.”

No, he should thank her.

She had no idea what a great present she’d given him.